As I Was Saying. (2)
Richard: In the night, the quotation says. In the night. Harriet: In the dark. In the dark. Curtains fall. End of scene Four. Scene Five. Harriet, Richard and Thomas are sitting on deckchairs later in the day. Harriet is between the two men sitting forward gazing at the sea. The men are sitting back relaxed. Thomas has his eyes closed. Harriet: You can feel the cold air off the sea. I can feel it round my ankles. Richard: You should have put your stockings back on earlier at the hotel. I told you the air would be colder and damper. Harriet: It's the freedom I like. Most of the year I have to wear stockings and such; it's nice to be able to feel the air along my legs. (Harriet runs her right hand up and down her leg. She looks at Richard for a few moments, then turns to look at Thomas.)The sea air has made him tired. (Looks closer at Thomas)When men are asleep they seem like children. They have that helpless look. (Thomas open his eyes) Thomas: I'm not asleep, Harriet, I'm just resting my eyes. Harriet: My father used to say that. I'm just resting my eyes, young Harriet, he'd say. Most of the time you could hear him snoring. Sounded like a ship leaving harbour. Richard: Talking of ships, isn't that that famous liner out there. (Richard sits forward and points out to sea. The other two follow his finger's direction.) Harriet: My mother used to moan at him. Kept her awake at night he did. Thomas: It's not as large the new liner. I'm sure. Richard: Looks the same to me. Thomas: No, the funnels are different. Harriet: Almost divorced him she did. Richard: In what way are they different? Thomas: More upright. Harriet: She went to bed with earplugs after that. (Harriet sits back in her deckchair and searches for a cigarette. She finds one and lights it. She holds the lighter in her hand and stares at it for a few moments.)This lighter is his. He gave it to me when he gave up smoking. Richard: I wonder what it was like on the Titanic when she went down. Thomas: Hectic, I should imagine. Harriet: His breathing got so bad he had to give it up. Richard: Give up what? Harriet: Smoking. He had to give up smoking because his breathing was bad. Thomas: The unsinkable she was supposed to be, but she sank. Richard: You should give up smoking. Harriet: What sank? Thomas: The Titanic. Harriet: When was that? Thomas: 1912. Harriet: Some time ago, then? Richard: Smoking is a bad habit. I can't see why people start. Thomas: Yes. Sometime ago. (Pause. Thomas sits back and muses on the thought of being on board a sinking ship. Richard looks back at the hotels and shops for a few minutes. Harriet stares at her cigarette, watching the smoke rise from it.) Richard: Do you remember old Mr.Thompson at school? (Turns and looks across at Thomas.) Thomas: Too well. Caned me enough times to have his name branded on my brain cells for all eternity. Harriet: Must have been a naughty boy then, Thomas. Thomas: He was a sadist. He'd cane a boy for the sheer fun of it. Richard: Wonder what he's doing now? Thomas: Rotting in Hell, I hope. Harriet: I knew a Mr. Thompson. He used to have a boutique in the West End of London. Thomas: Can't imagine our Thompson running a boutique, can you Richard? Harriet: I think he fancied me. He would always manage to put his hands on me... Richard: He'd have one of those... Harriet: I was going to complain, but I didn't want to cause a fuss. Thomas: Girly magazine shops, like they have in Soho. Richard: More for the boys, I'd say. Harriet: I wish my Mr. Thompson were one for the boys. (Harriet closes her eyes. Thomas gazes out at the sea. Richard looks at Harriet.) Thomas: That liner's gone now. Richard: I wonder where she's going? Thomas: Somewhere nice, I expect. Richard: My father always promised himself a voyage, but he never did go. Thomas: Don't we all make ourselves promises. As a child I promised myself that as soon as I left school I'd never pick up another book. Richard: Promises are easy to make, but harder to keep. A little like a mistress: easy to make love to her, but harder to keep her happy. Thomas: I wouldn't know about a mistress, I've never had one. Harriet: I wonder if that boutique's still there. (Harriet opens her eyes.) Do you think it could be, Richard? Richard: Is what still where? Harriet: That boutique. That one run by my Mr.Thompson. Richard: I shouldn't have thought so. Thomas: I had a good wife. I had no need of a mistress. She'd still be here now if it wasn't for that drunk driver. They never found him. Got away with it. Bloody murder. (Thomas wipes his nose.) She'd have been my age now. We were only a few months apart in age. Richard: That sea air is getting quite sharp. Harriet: I wouldn't put up with that nonsense, now. Mr. Thompson or anyone. Thomas: You can feel it on your cheeks. Richard: Time to go back to the hotel for the evening meal soon. Harriet: I was only young, then. Didn't want to make a fuss. Hands all over you as you tried on some garment. Thomas: The sun's going in. Richard: Getting dark. Harriet: Like passing ships in the dark as Richard says. Richard: Night, Harriet, it's night. Passing ships in the... Harriet: Night. Thomas: Calm isn't it out there. Tranquil as a lily pond. Richard: The sea's getting darker. Harriet: The plans of dogs and cats. Richard: Mice and men, Harriet, mice and men. Thomas: Passing ships have gone. Too dark to see much. Richard: Best be going back. Harriet: Night night, sea. (Richard sighs as he looks at Harriet. Thomas smiles in deep thought.) Curtain falls. End of Act One.. ACT TWO. Scene One. The outside of the small hotel is upstage with a door leading into the hotel bar. Downstage are two tables each with three chairs placed on a veranda over looking the sea.. Thomas and Richard are sitting in two of the three chairs. There some glasses on the table and an ashtray. It is early evening of the same day. Thomas: Is Harriet not joining us for a drink? Richard: Yes. She�ll be down later. She had to powder her nose, so she said. Thomas: My mother used to use that expression. Going to powder my nose, she�d say. And when she returned I always gaped at her nose to see if it had been powdered, but it never looked any different. It always looked a little shiny if anything. I often wondered why women used that expression. Why they couldn�t just say they were going to the toilet or the loo, I don�t know. Richard: That�s women for you, Thomas. Always planting a forest to get to a tree. Can�t for the life of them say a simple word or utter a straightforward expression where a complex one will do. Thomas: Does Harriet have any ambitions apart from having babies? Richard: She hasn�t mentioned any to me. (Pause. Picks up a glass and sips the contents slowly. The holding the glass just away from his lips he looks out towards the sea that is still visible, though dimly.) I thought at one time that she might paint again. But nothing came of it. She seems to have lost all interest in what arts she had been interested in and now just broods on this baby idea. Thomas: Did she used to paint? Was she an artist of some kind? Richard: Says she was. She�s shown me the odd print of paintings she says she�s done in the past. Thomas: Is she any good? Richard: Hard to say in this day and age: it all looks rather odd. Thomas: I thought she might have had an artistic instinct somewhere within her yesterday when I spoke to her briefly. Richard: She was only briefly a professional. Thomas: Why did she give it up? Richard: No one bought her paintings. Thomas: Well, Van Gogh didn�t sell more than one and he didn�t give up. Richard: Yes, but she doesn�t have a rich brother to keep her fed and clothed. (Sips at his glass again. Thomas picks up his glass and there is a few moments silence.) Thomas: I love art. I love the artistic kind of life. The bohemian attitude towards the outer world. The freedom of expression. Richard: We all love art, Thomas. We�re British. It comes with the territory. Name me a true English man who doesn�t love art. Thomas: Your father hated art. He thought it was for pansies. Richard: No. That�s not strictly true. He liked Constable. Thomas: Constable doesn�t represent the whole of art, Richard. Your father, if |I remember correctly, said that he�d rather shake hands with a dead German than a living artist. Richard: That moon is new isn�t? Or is it a full moon? I can�t decide which it is. Thomas: And when you played your father that Ravel piece on the piano he said when�s the tune going to start. Richard: And it is beginning to look quite romantic. I think the moon always looks romantic. Thomas: And when you took him to see the Henry Moore sculptures, he was quite bemused and coughed on his pipe for laughing so much. Richard: Harriet knows about the moon. She�s interested in astrology. She showed me the various stars and what they were called. She�s quite bright in her field. (Pause.) She�s often late to bed because she�s at the window peering up at the sky. I think that was a shooting star, she�ll say staring up at the night sky through the parted curtains. Thomas: And your father thought Monet was a French wine. (Puts down his glass and looks back the hotel.) Is Harriet going to come down here tonight? Richard: You know women and their noses. I�ve yet to meet a woman who was ever on time. Won�t be long, she said. (Peers back at the hotel for a few moments. Then both men turn and look out at the sea.) Thomas: My late wife was always on time. Never late for anything. Except our wedding. Then she came late. The driver took her to the wrong church. Richard: Good God. I wish my former wife had gone to the wrong church; I could have saved a hell of a lot of money on alimony fees. Thomas: That moon appears to sit on the sea. Richard: I�d paint that if I were an artist. Thomas: The way the light spreads out. Richard: Maybe |I should get Harriet to get out her oils again. I�d love to see her dab away with her brush. Thomas: And the sea is shimmering. Richard: She has an artistic way of lying in bed. Thomas: And the greying clouds add that touch of mystery to the whole scene. Richard: Spreading her arms out like some crucified Christ. Thomas: I love the moon. I love its enigma. Like a woman. (Lights fall) End of Scene One. Act Two. Scene Two. Half and hour later at the same scene. Thomas and Harriet are sitting in two of the three chairs. Thomas is looking out at the sea. Harriet is fiddling about in her bag. Harriet: I'm sure I've left my cigarettes back in the room. Damn and blast it. (Searches more rigorously but finds no cigarettes.) I don't suppose you have a cigarette on you do you? Thomas: No. I've not been one for the weed. My brother smoked, but I never got the taste for it. Harriet: Lucky you. Wish I'd never started. (Puts her handbag on the floor by her feet. Sits and stares at Thomas.) What do you think of babies? Thomas: Babies? Harriet: Yes, those little human beings that seem to cause men so much anxiety. Thomas: I've never had any. Harriet: But would you like to have done if your wife hadn't been killed? Thomas: Hard to say. I expect she would have liked one or two. Harriet: I want a baby. Thomas: Do you? Harriet: Desperately. Thomas: What's Richard think? Harriet: He's not keen. Frightened it will interfere with his music. Thomas: That's your drink on the table. Richard said you liked your gin and tonic. Harriet: I told him it needn't interfere with his music. I said I'd do the nasty jobs like nappies and such. Still not keen though. Thomas: Not been much for the spirits. I prefer beer myself. Harriet: Why are men so afraid of babies? Thomas: My late wife liked her vodka. Drank it neat. Harriet: They don't mind the sex, but they don't like the result. Thomas: Not that she ever got drunk, but she liked a drink. Harriet: Do you like children, Thomas? Thomas: Yes. (Pause. Thomas looks at Harriet and their eyes engaged for several minutes in silence.) Liking children and having children are two different things. I like ballet, but I wouldn't want a ballerina as a wife. Harriet: They are usually very thin. Thomas: Get in some awkward positions. Harriet: And leaping about all over the place. Thomas: My brother had no time for ballet. Said it made him laugh all those men in tights chasing girls in tights and tutus. Harriet: Shame he drowned; he sounds a laugh. Thomas: Who? Harriet: Your brother. He sounds like he was a laugh. Thomas: He never took anything serious. (Thomas is silent for a few moments. He watches Harriet walking up and down by the table.) He only took things seriously when it was too late. Harriet: I like a good laugh. They say it does you good to have a good laugh. Thomas: When he was brought out of the sea, he had a serious expression on his face, so I was told. (Thomas watches Harriet�s hands fiddling in her skirt pocket.) If you�re that desperate for a cigarette, why not go back to your room? Harriet: Wish Richard would laugh more. He�s such a serious person. Thomas: If I was desperate for a cigarette, I�d go back to my room. Harriet: Go back to your room? Whatever for? Thomas: No. I meant if I was desperate. Harriet: Desperate for what? Thomas: Cigarette. Harriet: Thought you didn�t smoke. Thomas: I don�t. I meant if I was you and I was desperate. Harriet: Desperate for what, Thomas? (Harriet sits down and gazes at Thomas.) Thomas: I thought you wanted a cigarette. I thought you were desperate for a cigarette by the way your fingers were fiddling. Harriet: I am, Thomas. I�d give anything for a cigarette at this moment. Thomas: Richard�s quite some time. He said it wouldn�t take a few minutes. Harriet: I shouldn�t have started. I want to give up, but I�ve not got the willpower. I need a puff to calm my nerves. (Picks up her glass and sips daintily.) Did Richard tell you about my bad nerves? Thomas: No. He said you were a painter. Harriet: I�ve had bad nerves for years. I think it gets him down a bit. He hasn�t the patience for nervous people. Thomas: I�d love to be able to paint. Always wished I could pick up a brush and dab away like a Piccaso. Harriet: It�s not my fault I�ve bad nerves. My father�s to blame. He led my mother and me such a life when I was a child. He was a drunk. He used to� Thomas: Mind you, Piccaso was overrated, I think. Richard thinks he was a fraud. Harriet: Fraud? Who? Thomas: Piccaso. Richard thought him a fraud. Harriet: The man was a bloody genius. Richard�s opinion of art is quite narrow in range. We often argue over art. Him, his old stuff, the Moderns, and me. Thomas: Your father drank you say? Harriet: Like it was rationed. You could say he had a drinking problem: two hands and only one mouth. We dreaded him coming home. I would hide behind my mother and shake. He often used to� Thomas: Richard said you knew about the moon and its phases. Harriet: I was often black and blue. Thomas: And the stars. He said you knew of the constellations. Harriet: I think he was a weak man in retrospect. Thomas: That moon has a mystery about it. Harriet: He died eventually when his liver gave upon him. Thomas: Shelley had a thing about the moon. I suppose most poets do. Harriet: Richard�s a long time. Always takes his time. Except bedtime. (Silence settles upon them.) End of Scene Two. Act Two. Scene Three. Fifteen minutes later. Same scene as before. Richard and Harriet sit on two of the three chairs. The table has more glasses and the ashtray is getting full. Harriet is fiddling in her bag. Harriet: Where did Thomas go? Richard: Went to look for you. Harriet: Did he? Richard: Didn�t you see him? Harriet: No. (Harriet looks deeper in her bag. Doesn�t find what she wants so looks under the table.) Richard: What are you looking for? Harriet: My cigarettes. I had them in my bag I thought. (She closes her bag in frustration.) You haven�t seen them have you? Richard: No. Are you sure you�ve not seen Thomas? Harriet: No. At least not since dinner. (Searches through her pockets.) I must have a smoke. I shall die without a smoke.
Copyright © 2005 Terry Collett |